


coronapocalypse

by peterstank



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: corona time, shuri makes a political speech skdjdjd, stay! inside!, wash! your! hands!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterstank/pseuds/peterstank
Summary: “This whole quarantine thing shouldn’t even apply to me.”“Uh, I beg to differ, it’s very serious,” replies Tony’s voice, slightly muffled like he’s got his phone pressed between his shoulder and chin. “We’re all on lockdown, which means no leaving your place unless it’s for emergencies.”“And what qualifies as an emergency?”There’s a pause.“Why do I get the feeling you’re not in your apartment?”
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 108
Kudos: 479





	coronapocalypse

**Author's Note:**

> Hello it’s me! this is not meant to be offensive in any way! this situation obviously sucks (but it can be worse for others) so pls remember to wash your hands, keep your distance, and avoid socialising as much as possible!!
> 
> also this one goes out to my tumblr mom bc i love u so here’s some spideychelle jsjdjd

“This whole quarantine thing shouldn’t even apply to me.”

“Uh, I beg to differ, it’s very serious,” replies Tony’s voice, slightly muffled like he’s got his phone pressed between his shoulder and chin. “We’re all on lockdown, which means no leaving your place unless it’s for emergencies.”

“And what qualifies as an emergency?”

There’s a pause. 

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not in your apartment?”

Peter bites his lip. “Maybe because I’m sort of… not?”

“Oh my god,” Tony says. “Kid, _where_ are you? What on Earth are you doing?”

Peter sighs and rips off his fifth pair of latex gloves. He then finds the nearest sink and, while doing the standard twenty-second wash, says, “Hospitals are completely overwhelmed, okay? Like, the hallways are _packed_ with sick people. I’m young and spritely and enhanced which, y’know, _obviously_ reduces the odds of me getting this thing to like zero percent, before you freak out. Anyway, long story short: May needed help and so here I am.”

“Ha ha! Absolutely not! Go _home!”_

“ _Tony.”_

“ _Peter,_ ” Tony returns, “this is serious, okay? People are dying.”

“Yes, I’m aware. I’m literally _surrounded_ by dying people.”

Another pause. Peter dries his hands while he waits. “Okay,” Tony says. “Alright, I’m coming.”

“What? No!”

“Yes!”

“Tony, you _can’t._ You’re—I mean, no offense, but you’re not exactly _young—_ ”

“I’m _Iron Man.”_

“You can’t just go around saying ‘I Am Iron Man’ every time someone tells you that you can’t do something. You’re worse than Ron Swanson sometimes, I swear. Just, like, stay at the cabin. Build a new suit. Everything is fine here.”

“Everything is fine? That’s a cute lie, really. I know everything is _not_ fine. Pepper’s been at the Tower for a week straight trying to provide relief and organise donations, and here I am, isolated in my stupid cabin in the woods—”

“Which is the safest place for you—”

“—worrying my ass off about both of you and trying to teach my five year old kid about shapes and shit because school is cancelled for like, ever. This is not okay. I’m anxious, I’m restless—”

“Why is it that you’re perfectly fine spending weeks on end in that cabin until you’re told you can’t leave it?”

A third pause. “Listen here, Buster—”

Peter laughs. “I’m serious, Tony. The best thing you can do is try to flatten the curve by staying inside.”

“ _I’m_ the one who’s supposed to lecture _you.”_

He smiles. “Yeah well, it’s the apocalypse. World’s all out of whack. Now _please_ stay inside, okay? Promise me?”

Tony sighs. “God. Fine. I promise.”

* * *

It takes Tony all of twenty minutes to break his promise.

He spends a good chunk of it pacing the kitchen floor, biting his nail and thinking. After ten minutes, Morgan starts to follow him. She doesn’t ask questions or anything, just trails after him with big round eyes, occasionally tripping him up. 

Then she gets pooped and sits down right in his path. “I’m tired. Can we stop now?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “You’d have more energy if you weren’t such a copycat.”

And that’s when it hits him. 

_Cats._

He pulls out his phone, ignoring the message from Peter that reads: I’M SERIOUS. STAY HOME; he scrolls through his contacts and clicks on ‘Aristocat’. 

“I’m very busy. What is it?”

“Any chance you could meet me at the Tower in like, say, an hour or so?”

* * *

Peter leaves the hospital about halfway into May’s shift to start on dinner. They’ve been refraining from going out to eat as much as humanly possible, which means _one_ of them has to cook and it most certainly isn’t going to be the adult. 

(She’d tried to make her grandmother’s lasagna recipe the other day and had almost set the apartment on fire. Now there’s a big soot stain on their kitchen ceiling and their super is fucking _pissed._ )

Peter is carrying like five bags of groceries when he walks in and he promptly drops them all at the sight of MJ sitting on his living room couch. 

“Um… _s_ _cusa?”_

MJ closes the book—or rather, the ancient, thicc, dusty _tome—_ that she’d been reading and salutes him. “Hey idiot.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, y’know, quarantining.”

“Oh, of course, that makes perfect sense except for the part where quarantining means you _don’t_ socialise.”

“Yeah, but I’m so _bored,_ ” she whines. “Besides, you can’t get it, right?”

“No, but May can.”

“Yeah, okay, point taken,” she says, standing and walking over, “but like, _you_ can’t get it, right? So that whole stupid six feet rule doesn’t apply? There could be like, say, _no_ feet?”

Peter blushes. “I—I have frozens.”

MJ rolls her eyes. She stoops down and picks up a bag. “What’s on the menu?”

“Carbonara, maybe. It’s May’s favourite. Either that or stir fry.”

“Ah yes, the two food groups: Italian and Chinese.”

“Um, they have the best meals.”

“Well duh, but it’s _all you ever eat._ Have you ever had, like, a salad? A grape?”

Peter rolls his eyes as they unload the food. There’s something about it that’s kind of domestic and awesome, especially because she knows exactly where everything goes and they keep doing this thing where they step around each other like the whole routine is second nature. 

But _whatever._ He’s _seventeen._ He’s not thinking about shit like that. No sir, no ma’am. 

Peter’s phone rings. 

He answers without checking the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Buzz me in.”

“Oh my god,” Peter snaps. “ _What?_ Why are you here? You’re supposed to be an hour away in your Unabomber cabin, remember?”

“I don’t recall that conversation.”

“I’m not letting you in.”

“But I brought McDonald’s,” Tony says, prompting Peter to pull back the curtain to squint out into the street. He sees him holding Morgan on his hip. “See? Chicken nugget.”

“Funny.”

“ _Pete._ Let me in.”

“I won’t. I refuse.”

“ _Why?”_

“I’m—I’m all covered in germs!”

“You can’t get the stupid virus!”

“Just because I can’t get it doesn’t mean it can’t get _on_ me!”

“Peter!”

“God! Fine!”

* * *

Morgan runs straight for him, but before she can get close enough Tony says, “Ah-ah! What have we said about safe distances?”

Morgan skids to a halt and pouts. “Don’t get closer than six feet,” she recites miserably. 

Peter grins. “Air-five?”

Morgan gladly gives him one. “Can I play with your Legos?” 

“Oh wow, so that’s all I’m good for?”

“Well I can’t _hug_ you,” she says, hands on her hips, eerily Pepper-esque. “What _else_ am I supposed to do?”

“Fair enough.”

She runs off. Peter turns to Tony expectantly. The older man is, predictably, wearing a three-piece suit and an aloof air. He claps his hands together. “Well, I’m sure you crazy kids will have lots of fun together, but I’ve gotta jet—”

“Woah woah woah,” Peter intercepts his path, “you can’t just drop off your kid and dip! Where are you even going? Why are you even _here?”_

Tony rolls his neck. “Can you just, like—I have an appointment—”

“With _who?”_

A sniff. “My business associate. Good day, Mr. Parker.”

He side-steps Peter and strides out, leaving the door wide open in his wake. Peter stares after with a parted mouth. “What the fuck.”

* * *

For the sixth time in a row, Shuri hums. 

“Okay, you’re killing me. What does that mean?”

The princess rolls her eyes. “It means nothing. I’m simply thinking.”

Tony nods. He rocks back and forth on his heels for a minute. “You know, I’m sort of surprised Wakanda hasn’t already come up with a cure. I mean, you guys are way ahead of the game with your tech—”

“Yes, but Mother Nature is unpredictable. Just because we have the capability doesn’t mean we have the foresight, and having tools doesn’t mean the solution puts itself together. That takes a brain. _My brain,_ and yours I suppose. You can have a little footnote in the paper once they publish the article about me in Times magazine.”

Tony grins. “I’m flattered.”

“Technology is not meant to conquer nature,” Shuri says quietly, turning back to her work. “They two are meant to work together in _harmony.”_

Tony nods. “Wish everyone thought that way.”

“Most do,” she says, “but they’re stuck in your broken system and can’t get out without ruining their own lives.”

Tony hums. “I heard there are alligators in the canals in Venice.”

“Yes,” she makes a note of something and peers back into her microscope, “and there were whales in the Hudson during the Snap, but they’re gone now, hm? Your people… haven’t learned to balance nature and humanity. Disasters like this make everyone realise how fragile the world is, how little things like jobs or money mean, but once it’s all over you bounce right back. It makes me so… _angry._ ”

Tony chews on that. “Maybe it’ll be different this time.”

“Doubt it.”

“Well, what’s something you and I could do—something effective—that would change things?”

Shuri clicks her tongue. “You can start by making sure this vaccine is administered for free everywhere.”

“Goes without saying.”

“And _then_ you can start producing all kinds of _other_ medicines for free. And _maybe_ look for cures people can find naturally in nature. Wakanda has plenty of herbal alternatives to pharmaceuticals.”

“Think you could make me a list?”

She hums again. 

* * *

“Hello, what is this?”

Morgan pokes her head out from under a sheet. “A bomb shelter.”

Peter leans in to inspect the fort she’s built with sheets and chairs in his bedroom. It’s actually pretty structurally sound, unsurprisingly seeing as it was built by Tony Stark’s daughter. She’s even put a plastic cup over the head of the teddy bear she’d brought along. 

Still, Peter bites his lip. “Hey, Mongoose?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“...No…”

“Because it’s okay if you are,” he assures. “I’m a little bit scared too.”

She looks up. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He crawls inside and leans against his bedframe, letting her climb onto his lap. “But hey, here’s a really cool fact for you: most kids don’t even get it, and if they do, they’re usually asymptomatic. Know what that means?”

“They don’t feel sick.”

“That’s right. _So,_ as long as you’re in good health—which you are—and take your vitamins—which you do—and wash your hands—which you _also_ do—you should be just fine.”

Morgan gives him a grunt in response and then buries her face in his neck. “M’not worried about me.”

“Who are you worried about, kiddo?”

“Everyone else.”

And it’s not like, a surprise or anything coming from Tony Stark’s kid. Of course she’d be carrying around a huge anxiety about everyone else’s well being; it’s like, ingrained into her DNA. Both her mom _and_ her dad bust their asses on the daily trying to help people, trying to save them, trying to make the world a better place. 

Peter hugs her a little closer. “It’s hard not to worry about everyone else, kiddo, but you gotta remember that it’s not your job.”

“Says you,” a dry voice remarks, and then MJ is folding back a blanket to glare at him. “You dress up in a leotard to help old ladies cross the street, Parker. You’re not one to talk.”

“Dude, I’m trying to give a life lesson here.”

“Well I’m good at those. Morgan: don’t listen to your idiot brother.”

“Hey!”

Morgan laughs, and MJ leans inside to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Seriously, it’s gonna be okay. As long as everyone does what they’re supposed to and stays home, we’ll be fine.”

“Oh, that means a lot coming from you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sniffs, “I am home.”

Peter chokes on the snarky remark he’d been thinking up and kind of just stares at her, open-mouthed, like a complete idiot. He knows MJ’s home life kind of sucks and stuff, sure, and it kind of hits him right then exactly _why_ she’s there and that she probably doesn’t intend to leave any time soon. 

“MJ…”

She covers his mouth with her hand. “Social distancing, remember?”

Peter rolls his eyes. “This stupid virus blows,” he proclaims, muffled against her palm. 

* * *

“Good news!”

Peter, MJ, and Morgan look up to find Tony and May in the doorway to the kitchen. Peter swallows lettuce. “Are death rates declining?”

“Uh—I don’t know. But they _will_ when I release the handy-dandy new vaccine I just made.”

MJ scrunches up her nose. “I thought that shit had to be tested and stuff.”

“It was. Besides, it was made by two geniuses and approved by an overjoyed Helen Cho. What are you doing under the table?”

Peter blinks. “Just… seemed like the place to be.”

May sits down. “Salad for dinner? What are we, rabbits?” 

“ _Salad?”_ Tony demands. “But we’re _Italian._ Where’s the _pasta?”_

Peter looks at MJ. “You see this? You see what you’ve done?”

She shrugs. “Pasta’s bad for you. It’s important to take care of your health.”

“Mental health is important too,” Tony points out, “and pasta makes me happy.”

Peter politely ignores Morgan lifting a piece of lettuce to inspect like it's an alien specimen. He bumps shoulders with Tony. “Thank you.”

“For what? I’m just doing my job.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Just eat your salad.”

“I will if you find me some thinly sliced almonds to add.”

May snaps her fingers. “And those little black olives! And some olive oil!”

Peter grunts. “And two olives to stick in my ears so I can survive the remainder of this quarantine without jumping off the side of a building.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> pls let me know what u thought!! also seriously I’m not trynna make light of this situation I’m just trying to help everyone get through it!! pls everyone stay safe!!


End file.
